


Not Gonna Die (Tonight)

by Phantoms_Echo



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: :D, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, And author does mean 'ever after', But no major character deaths, Drama, Happily Ever After, Honestly Conan is such a trouble magnet, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Kaito is going to have his hands full, M/M, Minor Character Death, STILL!, Science Fiction, So much death, Supernatural Elements, Survival, Suspense, What classifies as 'major'?, Zombie Apocalypse, also death, horror?, i think, idk - Freeform, never made a Zombie AU before, so much drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29076102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantoms_Echo/pseuds/Phantoms_Echo
Summary: The news was calling it the Zombie Apocalypse.The police were cordoning off whole sections of the town.Tokyo was in chaos, losing more of its population to the undead faster than any other plague in recent history.All because Conan went to Agasa’s house that day.All because he ran when Zombie-Agasa had lunged at him.All because he didn’t close the door behind him, left the stupid front gate swinging in his wake.The creation of the Zombie horde might have been on Haibara…But Conan was the one to unleash it.
Relationships: Kudou Shinichi | Edogawa Conan/Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid
Comments: 81
Kudos: 157





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Muse: [slightly crazed] Zombie AU?
> 
> But now, seriously, I've been so excited about this fic! I wrote 18k in a span of 5 days last week, all so I could get ready to start posting this week! :) And by coincidence, it lines up exactly with the timeline of my newest class! So I have an accurate way of counting chapters. (It was not planned, but it really is useful.)
> 
> Also, need to give some credit. I came up with this idea after watching this [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7xEJusROWN4) by [Film Theory](https://www.youtube.com/c/FilmTheorists/videos) over on Youtube. I watched it the day it came out, and came up with the idea for this fic within the week. So I've been sitting on this story for about 4 years now (if it seems a little dated compared to other stories of mine, that's why). 
> 
> Also! I got some really good motivation from [Aein Park](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCmDtygPK5WZoPaiP8b4ufYw) and their [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ajXtdxc8wYM), which also ended up being the name of this fic. I feel that it was very accurate to what I was trying to write, so make sure to go over and give them a big thank you for me! :D
> 
> And with that, I believe we can head into the first chapter. Remember, updates are weekly, so look forward to next week's update too!

Haibara sighed and scrubbed a hand over her eyes.

It was late, later than she was supposed to be awake since Agasa had instigated a curfew. Yes, technically she was 18 years old, but this six-year-old body ran out of energy quickly and she found herself irritable if she didn’t get enough sleep —something the Shounen Tantei-dan would pick up on if she wasn’t careful. She didn’t want to upset them. She really needed to sleep soon.

It was just…

She wanted to figure out this newest cure. Kudou's time was shortening with each use of the antidote she had. As far as she could tell, his body was becoming immune. Which was odd, because it was usually the _poison_ that a body became immune to, not the antidote. 

What's more, unless he exhibited cold-like symptoms, the effects of the cure wouldn’t appear at all. This was completely against logic, since it wasn’t his auto-immune system that was responsible for ridding the body of poisons. It was the duty of the liver and other cleansing organs to filter out the toxin and void it from the system. Those organs shouldn’t be effected in that way by a common cold, as far as she could tell.

However, it was the only lead she had at the moment, so it was her best bet.

Taking that into account, Haibara had been experimenting with a viral cure. Something that acted like a cold-virus, but carried the cure along with it. It was a hassle for sure, but all the data she had pointed to it being Kudo's best bet. 

Results, however, were a different matter. 

So far, her experiments had been less than promising. The few times her combinations had led to a viable organism, the testing phase had put an end to it. Blood samples from Kudou contained whatever immune reaction was responsible for ridding the body of the cure. When she injected the samples into the testing platelets, the effects were immediate.

All of her cold-cure fusions were decimated. 

The samples that weren’t, decimated Kudou's blood cells.

Neither result was what she was after.

Which led to where she was now, squinting at the computer and fighting off the fuzziness of sleep.

Really, she should just give up and head in for the night, but she couldn’t. Not yet. There was one sample, the newest batch of the cold-cure fusion, that would finish up in the next few minutes. She wanted to test it and record the results before she went to bed. With any luck, she'd reach a break-through.

(The whole process reminded her a lot of developing the Apotoxin. It was a process she didn’t mind, especially since it was for a good reason now. ‘Eternal life’ had been a good reason too, but not at the consequences it gave.)

Kudou was planning to come over in the morning. She had already discussed her idea with him, for as much as he could follow. Though he was highly intelligent and well-read, his information bank was scattered and surface-level at best when it came to advanced bio-chemistry. He focused on what chemicals could easily kill a person, not how they interacted at the molecular level with non-sentient organisms.

Still, he made for a good sounding board, since he tended to think in ways she did not. It was interesting to see the way his mind worked, twisting things she took as fact into something entirely different. Certainly a unique outlook on life.

Despite only being a sounding board, she still wanted to impress him when he arrived the next morning. Having something under the microscope to show some progress would be better than nothing. Even if that ‘progress’ was simply eliminating another possibility. He knew as much as she did, if not more, that eliminating leads worked just as well as finding some.

Her timer beeped. The newest batch had finished its incubation period. 

She scrubbed at her eyes again, shut the alarm off, and reached for a syringe. A quick look under the microscope showed a promising sight. The virus capsules were ‘alive’, as far as a virus could be considered so. One long, delicate dissection and examination proved that the capsules also held the cure, in a ratio of 3-7, so less than a majority, but it was a good start. Whether this strand would prove resistant to Kudo's immune response was yet to be seen. 

Without looking up from the microscope, she reached for the blood sample she knew sat just out of reach. In her exhaustion, she misjudged the distance and sent several things _crashing_ to the ground.

Startled, she drew back with a curse. A quick inventory of the counter showed that the blood sample was still intact, but several of her other tools had fallen to the ground. Sighing, she hopped off the chair to clean up.

Sharp pain stabbed into her heel. Haibara let out a cry of pain and shock.

She fell backwards with a hiss and grabbed at her foot. A glint of silver caught her eye.

The fragments of a needle from one of her syringes.

Her heart stuttered in her chest.

Which syringe was it from?

She hoped it was from a non-used one, but she knew those were safely stored in a drawer. She couldn’t buy them in mass like she used to, so she kept them safe where she could. Those that were used, she put in a separate drawer for disposal.

That meant the only ones on her desk would have been the one she set out for Kudou's blood sample…

And the one she'd used to take a sample of the cold-cure fusion.

As soon as she formed the thought, she felt her skin heat up. 

Oh no. This was bad. _Very_ bad.

These samples she had been working with were for Kudou, so she'd been using his blood to test. Her own blood didn’t have _nearly_ the same amount of antibodies. She had had only one or two transformations, compared to his dozen or more. If the cure she had been working on for his jacked immune system met with her weakened one…

Early images of the cold-cure ripping blood cells apart flashed before her eyes.

Her body heated up. Her heart gave a painful clench.

She let out an agonized cry and fell to the ground.

* * * * *

Agasa dropped his cup at the scream. Glass shattered on the ground, but he paid no more attention than it took to leave the fragments behind. He flew to the basement door, heedless of the way his old lungs labored or the way his heart stuttered in place.

Haibara was right. He really did need to cut back on the carbs and add some more exercise to his routine. If simply running from the kitchen to the basement was enough to get his heart pounding this hard, he really was out of shape.

(He would fix it. He would do as she asked. He would tell her she was right.

So long as she was okay.

Because that scream… that _scream_ —!)

He threw open the door, and cursed the designs of his own house. The stairs were narrow and steep. He would have to be careful or risk breaking his ankle getting down. Still, he didn’t hesitate for even a second before slowly making his way down, hand grasping the railing as he did so.

“Ai-kun!” he called out feverishly. “Ai-kun, are you okay?”

There was some gasping sound that hit his ears. Gasping, which meant breathing, which was good. Not quite the response he was hoping for, but she wasn’t deadly quiet either, which was what he had feared. He shuffled his phone from his pocket and started dialing 911. He didn’t press the call button yet. He didn’t know how bad it was or whether it was related to something in Haibara’s lab.

It would be suspicious if it was.

After all, six-year-olds don’t play around in laboratories. A trustworthy adult certainly wouldn’t encourage it either. If the authorities decided he was unfit to act as Haibara’s guardian, she might be lost to the system.

The gasping wasn’t the best sign, but as long as she wasn’t too hurt, he could probably move her upstairs and come up with a good cover story for the EMTs. He knew she would rather never to go a hospital, never walk into a place with surveillance that would put her fake ID to the test, but if it came to that or losing her?

Agasa knew which he would choose.

“Ai-kun!” he called out again as he got towards the bottom of the stairs. The lab was dark with the lights turned off, illuminated only by the screen of her computer. He had told her time and again that she should keep the lights on or risk wearing glasses like him, but still, she refused. He reached out to flip the lights on, only to get another gasping reply.

“Ai-kun!” he called out into the gloom.

“… _way_.”

“Ai-kun, where are you?” He searched the area, but didn’t find the girl. Was she hiding behind something?

“… _Ge…aw—!_ ”

“Ai-kun?” He rounded the lab table to find a heap of bones and flesh on the ground. Pale shoulders shuddered and twitched unnaturally. Small fingers clawed at the tiled floors. “Ai-kun?”

“… _et… way!_ ” the being rasped. _“Get away!_ ”

Agasa shouted as the thing lunged at him. He twisted around and stumbled as he hurried towards the stairs.

But that blasted narrow stairwell proved to be his undoing.

The moment he slowed down, something tackled him from behind and shoved both of them to the floor.

He shrieked as sharp teeth dug into his skin.

* * * * *

Okiya Subaru looked up from his book. He didn’t know what had disturbed him, but he thought it was a sound of some kind. From inside the house? No, it sounded like it came from outside, from next door.

It didn’t sound like a raid. There was no glass breaking or wood cracking as someone forced their way in. No eager gun shots or explosives. When he got up to peer through the windows, there were no get-away cars or any signs of Molotov cocktails in the house. There was nothing to denote stress, but…

Something had changed in the air. Something wrong. Something… _sinister_.

Okiya changed out of his pajamas and back into day clothes. He grabbed his keys and a flashlight and headed over. It could be nothing, but it might be _something_.

Either way, Okiya would investigate.

* * * * *

Conan hummed tunelessly to himself as he walked down familiar roads. Excited as he was, he might have skipped, like Ayumi or Genta, but he didn’t. He was 16, even if he didn’t look like it. He kept up a childish act for appearances only. He couldn’t afford to lose his sense of self by doing it on his own as well.

(That way only led to insanity.

And potentially embarrassing habits once he changed back for good.)

So he resolutely did not skip as he turned down the street that would lead to the Kudou residence and the house that belonged to Agasa.

He and Haibara had planned to go over the newest versions of her cure today and see if there were any viable samples. Conan didn’t know much about biology past the decaying processes and those pertinent for potential murder schemes, but if nothing else, he was another set of eyes and a second set of thoughts. He couldn’t count the number of times he had found the answer to a murder scheme just by the way someone else’s words had twisted in his brain.

(And if he got to see for himself that progress was being made on a cure, or at least _attempting_ to be made, he felt that he might be able to breathe a little easier.)

So he didn’t think twice about passing the Kudou residence and its strangely dark lights. Okiya was likely out for groceries or perhaps meeting up with Jodie to make a report. The professor’s house was dark too, though not exactly strange. Agasa had blown the fuses _multiple_ times before on a variety of projects. The question this time was which one, exactly, had caused the power-failure.

When he got to the door though, Conan hesitated, because…

The door was unlocked.

Even when the professors was elbows deep in a new project, he never left the door unlocked. Precisely because he would get robbed and not even realize it. Plus, with Haibara’s paranoia, there was never an entry left unguarded or un-obstructed. So why…?

His sense of unease grew when he gently pushed the door open and was met with silence. No cursing as Agasa tried to fix the fuse box in the dark. No gentle ribbing from Haibara for his ‘nonsense’ inventions that either exploded or caused something _else_ to explode. No sound of talking, whether real or from the TV—absolutely nothing.

The silence felt like bugs crawling on his skin.

The door swung open before him. He didn’t step foot into the house, just in case it was a crime scene. Or worse, was about to _become_ one. If it was a simple robbery, Conan was sure he could figure it out, but with Haibara here…

The likelihood of the perpetrator being a member of the Black Organization was non-zero. If they found him here, where Haibara resided…

It would be bad. It would be very, _very_ bad.

“Agasa?” he called out in concern. “Haibara? Are you here?”

He heard a noise from further in the house. It sounded like a mix between a groan and a… growl? What could possibly make…?

A figure appeared in the entryway. It was rotund with a familiar white lab coat draped over its shoulders. Glasses glinted from their place on its nose, bushy grey hair framing them at its ears. It looked like Agasa.

But it wasn’t Agasa.

Agasa’s lab coat didn’t have spots of blood all down the left side. Agasa’s glasses didn’t have cracked and missing lenses. Agasa’s skin wasn’t deathly pale and missing chunks and his eyes… Agasa’s eyes weren’t dull and flat, empty of the normal intelligence they held.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t Agasa. Not anymore.

That was the only thought Conan was able to get through his head before the creature’s gaze fastened onto him and it _lunged_. He let out a startled scream and took off in the other direction. He shoved the gate out of his way as he scrambled to the street and tore down the little alley he’d naively walked down mere minutes before.

He didn’t know what was going on, but he needed to tell the police. He needed that creature contained before it could get to anyone else. For all he knew, it could be contagious!

And that’s when the screams started.

* * * * *

The official story is that it was some kind of freak accident.

Professor Agasa was well known for being an inventor. Though his interests were largely outside of the biological field, he had dabbled with some chemistry throughout the years. People speculated that it was just another invention gone wrong —horribly, _horribly_ wrong.

Conan knew better. He knew that Agasa didn’t mess with biology. It was ‘ _too slimy_ ’ to quote the man.

But Haibara did.

She regularly toyed with DNA and proteins and organic molecules. She was usually pretty good with keeping them contained, but it seemed her luck had run out. One of those suspicious organisms had escaped and Agasa was its victim.

It’s _first_ victim, and definitely not it’s last.

There were more and more popping up. It seemed that, whatever it was, the disease was transmittable. All it took was a bite and someone would be infected. Some turned immediately, others took _days_ before the transformation started, but all ended up the same way: _turned_.

The news was calling it the Zombie Apocalypse.

The police were cordoning off whole sections of the town.

People were trying their best to fight back, but nothing seemed to work, save for a bullet straight through the brain stem. Couldn’t bite anyone if you were missing a jaw or your entire head.

Still, shots like that required precision, something the police and the very few people that owned shot-guns under Japan’s anti-gun law, _didn’t have_ when there were hordes of these monsters lunging at them, tearing at them, _turning them_.

Tokyo was in chaos, losing more of its population to the undead faster than any other plague in recent history.

All because Conan went to Agasa’s house that day.

All because he ran when Zombie-Agasa had lunged at him.

All because he didn’t close the door behind him, left the stupid front gate _swinging_ in his wake.

The creation of the Zombie horde might have been on Haibara…

But _Conan_ was the one to unleash it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan or Magic Kaito, only the idea for this fic.
> 
> Hey everyone! Hope you had a good week! I had an... okay one. Hoping to have a good weekend to wrap it up. :)
> 
> Side note, I made my first HTML page! :D It was for my class and is kind of janky, but I'm designing! :D Next week is Java and CSS, so lots of fun to go. ;)
> 
> Also, **note** for those who **don't like the Shounen-Tantei-dan** , they don't really play a major part in this fic. They are more of a plot device than individual characters. Originally, they were going to have more of a part to play, but I ended up scrapping the idea and focusing on something else. But just a heads up, they do have a lot of screen time for being a plot device.

Decomposition of a body can be broken up into 5 phases.

The “fresh stage” of initial decay occurs in the first 3 days. During this phase, the heart stops pumping, rigor mortis sets in and thaws, and all the blood sinks to the lowest point of the body, giving corpses a ghastly pale complexion.

The next phase, putrefaction occurs over the next week. This phase comes with bloated eyes and ruptured skin as the gases building in the corpse seek to escape. Blood vessels can be seen more clearly, giving pale flesh a ‘marbled’ effect. Towards the end, skin will slough off of corpses with little force.

Black putrefaction follows putrefaction, where the skin starts to discolor and turn black, gases are released, and organs are liquefied by nature’s bio-organic decomposers. This phase lasts up to another ten days after putrefaction, and results in a corpse without organs, without skin, and most importantly, _without a brain_. No brain, no control over muscles, no more threat.

From start to finish, the process takes, at most, 20 days for a normal human body.

After that, the last two phases occur. The corpse dries out and becomes nothing but bones.

So, during a zombie apocalypse, Conan only really needs to survive the first 3 weeks, then the initial phase of contagion is over. Well, that’s with the working theory that whatever Haibara had been experimenting with didn’t mess with the decomposition process, but that’s something Conan would learn over time. But in the _best case scenario_ , he only has to survive for three weeks.

Not too big a deal, all things considered. The apartment above the Mouri Detective Office has running water and electricity for as long as those hold out. They might need to fill up some jugs of water and keep spares lying around, and maybe get out the old gas camping stove in order to have something to cook on when the electricity eventually shuts down because no one can get to the power plant or a brainless zombie runs itself into a powerline and creates a short to ground.

Aside from that, water and shelter would be covered.

They typically keep several bags of rice in the pantry, along with a variety of canned food. The fresh stuff might be gone after the first week or so, but they wouldn’t run out of food entirely. And the fields would be virtually untouched, since zombies tend to go after _humans_ , not rice paddies and wheat fields, as far as popular science-fiction is concerned. So once this whole thing is over, there will be plenty of food to collect and restock with.

That basically covers all the essentials. Maybe there are some things that would be needed in special cases, like medicine for colds or chronic conditions, but nothing Conan or the Mouris would require. They have all the protection they would need with a door, since Zombies aren’t smart enough to turn door knobs and there’s not enough space in the small stairway for them to get enough hands and strength to break the door down, especially not with a bookshelf shoved in front of it. And that’s _if_ they think to work together in the first place.

From what he’s seen on the news so far, zombies are not super intelligent. They aren’t even _averagely_ intelligent.

So really, Conan knows he should have no problem surviving a Zombie Apocalypse. He’s run the numbers. He’s very familiar with the effects of decay on dead bodies (has to be, to be a famous teen detective like he was). He knows Ran’s buying habits. He knows Kogoro’s own survival prep-habits, strange as it is for the usually-lazy private eye.

Surviving a Zombie apocalypse would be a breeze.

… If he were still with Ran and Kogoro.

If he were still in the apartment above the detective agency.

If he hadn’t gotten a terrified call from Ayumi who was hiding out in an abandoned stairwell, crying after witnessing her mother get trampled to death in the initial panicked stampede.

If he hadn’t had to drag Genta out of his family’s shop and barricade the outside of the doors afterwards to keep his infected parents from following them.

If he hadn’t met up with Ayumi, to find Mitsuhiko also there after he’d separated from his family to answer Ayumi’s call over the Shounen Tantei-dan communicator badges.

Now, Conan’s got three children with him, two of which have absolutely no family to go back to, one of which has no idea where his family is, and no way to get across the city back to Ran without running into the panicked crowd or infected people.

So, he changes the plan.

Ayumi’s apartment would become their temporary base of operations. It was high off the ground and fairly well protected, so long as they didn’t make too much noise to draw attention to themselves. His suspenders provided them a means of entering and leaving without being followed easily. He could use his shoes and power kick to take down some attackers, but there was a limited charge and if he overloaded them, that was it. There was no fixing them.

(Not since the Professor was infected.)

Conan shook his head and focused on the current situation and the contents of Ayumi’s pantry. The kids were gathered on the couch. Ayumi was crying into Mitsuhiko’s shoulder, Genta staring at the far wall in shock. It’d been a rough day already, but it wasn’t over yet.

By his estimates, they won’t have enough food for three weeks. Ayumi’s mom only bought for two: her and Ayumi. Now, they were up to four people, with three of those being growing boys. So what would have lasted Ayumi and her mom two weeks might make it a week for all of them.

And that wasn’t mentioning the lack of containers for water or alternative heat sources than the electric stove. They might be able to use the oven as a pseudo-fire place, but they’ll need to keep the apartment well ventilated. The last thing Conan wanted to do was survive an experimental drug with a 99.999% death rate, only to die of carbon monoxide poisoning.

If they want to survive the next three weeks, they would need supplies.

(If they want to survive longer than that… Well, Conan is just focused on the first three weeks.)

(It was all he could afford to focus on.)

Conan made a list.

He made a list of the kinds of food that are easy for kids to make with a long shelf life. He added containers and water to the list, along with fire fuel that should have little to no smoke and alternate sources for lights. He added some clothes, since he, Genta and Mitsuhiko have none, but those are a much lower priority. If they go out a second time, they’ll get them then.

(He hoped they won’t have to go out a second time. He hoped this won’t last much longer than three weeks.)

(He knew the odds were not in his favor.)

He knew that kids have a weaker immune system, so he added general medicine to his list: fever reducers, pain killers, anti-biotic creams and more. Anything he could find that hadn’t already been taken.

Right now, airports were still letting people leave. Soon they wouldn’t. Soon, nothing would come in or go out, not people and not supplies. Medication and food would be scarce. People would kill for less.

The time they have to find supplies was be short. They needed to go _now_.

He didn’t know how Genta and Ayumi would fare. He had half a mind to leave them behind at the apartment, nut Genta needed to carry the heavy things and another set of hands was always useful. He wished he could give them time to grieve, but there was no time.

There wouldn’t be for a while.

“Mitsuhiko.” Conan looked to the only other stable person in the room. “Do you have a phone?”

“Ah, yes!” Mitsuhiko held it up. His face darkened with concern. “But… I wasn’t able to get ahold of my parents or my sister. Do you… think…?”

“I think they are likely in the middle of a crowd or an area that they can’t get too reception,” Conan said, because he really needed another level-headed person around. He couldn’t do this if he was the only voice of reason. “How much battery life does your phone have left?”

“Um…” Mitsuhiko checked. “73%.”

“Then you should be good for at least the rest of the day.” Conan nodded as he took out his own. “I’m going to turn my phone off, to conserve battery. I don’t have my charger with me and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to find one. It would probably be best to use it sparingly, so no phone games, no internet searches if you can help it. Ayumi, Genta, you should do the same.”

“Yes!”

“Ayumi’s phone got lost in the crowd,” Ayumi said, sadly. “But Ayumi has her charger!”

“Good, we’ll see if it matches any of our phones.” Conan tapped out a message to Ran ‘ _Call Mitsuhiko if you need me_ ’, then turned his phone off. He couldn’t deal with her worried response. Not now. Not yet. “Right now, we need to go out for supplies.”

Immediately, Ayumi and Genta tensed, as he knew they would. Having to watch a parent trampled to death or a friend barricade what used to be your parents to keep you from getting Bitten would have that effect on people.

Genta is the one that recovered first. “Supplies? You mean food?”

“Food, water, fuel and candles in case of a power outage, clothes for you, me, and Mitsuhiko, though that might have to wait until another trip.” Conan looked towards the balcony. “We’ll have to move fast. The sun is going to set soon.”

That wasn’t the real reason, but it was one the kids could understand.

“Yosh!” Genta exclaimed as he hopped to his feet.

“Let’s go!” Mitsuhiko cheered as he jumped to his feet too.

Ayumi twisted her fingers into the hem of her dress.

“Ayumi-chan,” Conan said calmly. “You can stay here if you want. We’ll come back as soon as we’re done.”

“No!” Ayumi shook her head emphatically. “Ayumi doesn’t want to be alone! Ayumi will go with you!”

It was the outcome Conan wanted, since it would give them an advantage, but he wished she had felt safe enough to be on her own.

He had a feeling none of them would feel safe. Not for a long time.

But he didn’t say that. He just nodded and headed for the door. “We’ll need to go fast. Do we have any bags we can use to help carry? Somehing like backpacks?”

“Ayumi has some old ones!” She raced into her room, disappearing for a moment before returning with several bright pink bags. Mitsuhiko and Genta gave them awkward looks, but Conan didn’t even pause as he accepted one from her and slung it over his shoulders. The boys were quick to follow suit after that.

“Okay, when we go out, everyone hold hands and walk in two rows. Genta, Mitsuhiko, you’ll be in back. Ayumi and I will be in front,” Conan instructed. “Ayumi, you keep watch for road signs and the direction to the store. Mitsuhiko, you keep watch for any infected people. Genta, you keep an eye on the regular people behind us and I’ll keep watch in front. We don’t want people running into us.”

Because if a stampede could kill a full grown adult, it could certainly kill a child.

But if they moved in a pack, with the taller, more easily seen kids in back, they would stand a better chance.

Conan would rather not go out at all, but that wasn’t an option. Not if they wanted to enough food to survive the next few weeks.

(And they would survive. Conan would accept no other outcome.)

“Got it!” Genta and Mitsuhiko nodded.

“Yes!” Ayumi nodded as she slipped her hand into his.

“Then let’s go!”

* * * * *

The stores were emaciated by the time they got there. Several shelves were completely empty. A majority of freezer meals were already sold. A lot of food staples, like rice and bread, were completely gone. The medicine aisle was slim pickings.

But they did manage to find things. They managed to find some store-brand fever reducers and anti-biotic creams along with stuff they could turn into Band-Aids. They found a lot of the bottom shelves still full, shelves that looked empty from an adult’s perspective, but had several items still shoved to the back. Things like peanut butter and other off-brand jars and boxes that Conan thought he might be able to do something with.

(If he had been with Ran, he knew she would have been able to make a tasty concoction.)

(But then, he wasn’t with Ran, was he?)

(He’d made his choice. In more ways than one.)

They managed to find some jugs and other containers that they could fill with water, along with bags that would work in a pinch. The ‘out-door grilling’ section had bags of charcoal, two of which Genta could easily tuck under his arms. They lucked out that the store Ayumi’s mom took her too also had a small section of clothing.

The boys ended up with four identical shirts and one spare pair of pants, but hey, it was clothing.

The cashier seemed mildly surprised that a group of kids was purchasing such an assortment of items, but rang them up with little protest.

“Planning on a snow storm?” the cashier asked jokingly.

“Zombie Apocalypse, actually,” Conan replied, deadly serious.

The cashier paused. “That’s only in the Beika street section, right? I thought the police had it covered.”

Conan gave a shrug.

Maybe they did. Maybe the officers had everything under control. Maybe the media was just exaggerating to cause panic with the populace. Maybe things weren’t as bad as Conan thought.

But if they were… Conan would rather not be caught unaware.

The cashier read out the total, which Conan ignored completely to hand over a credit card. It was one his parents had given him for emergencies only. He figured this counted as one.

They took a moment to shuffle all the supplies into their various bags to make it easier to walk back to the apartment. Then they headed out.

The walk back was almost as quiet as the walk there. They had one instance where an adult tried to mug them, but Genta threw one of the bags of charcoal at them and managed to wind them long enough to escape with everything in tow. The apartment elevators were a mess, so they had to take the emergency stairwell, but finally, they made it back to the apartment, no worse for wear.

“Ayumi-chan,” Conan dropped his bags off in the kitchen and nodded to the supplies. “Go ahead and start putting these away. We’ll come help after we shore up the defenses.”

“Un!” Ayumi nodded.

Conan watched her go, then turned to the other two. “Genta! Mitsuhiko!”

“Aye!” The two gave a very serious mock-salute.

“Help me move the bookshelf against the door.” Conan pointed to the piece of furniture in question.

“Okay!” Genta said eagerly.

“Um…” Mitsuhiko gave the bookshelf a look and wavered. “Should we unload it first?”

Conan took a minute to examine the shelf. If he had been Shinichi-sized, the answer would be no, but he wasn’t and neither were Mitsuhiko or Genta. If they had any hope of moving the bookshelf, they’d have to empty it first.

So they made a bunch of messy piles with the books, moved the shelf, then started putting them back. Ayumi finished with the groceries long before they finished moving the books, but that was fine. She just went over to help them instead.

They moved two more pieces of furniture this way, one glass cabinet and the couch. Conan made sure the books would still be accessible, since he had a feeling the kids would need entertainment of some kind, but he couldn’t help a sigh of relief once the couch slid into place.

The door was barricaded.

The windows were several stories up.

They had food, water and electricity for now, and alternatives for when they ran out.

Day One of Zombie Apocalypse Survival, _start_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I said this last time, but Kaito doesn't really show up until Chapter 4. Which means we only have to wait another 2 weeks. :) Isn't that great? :D
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy some Conan suffering. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan or Magic Kaito, only the idea for this fic.
> 
> Got a little more world-building/description going on here. Not as much dialogue as previous chapters, but I felt like these things needed to be explained, so I did.
> 
> Also, I just want to say, this is not a Quarantine fic! I did not write it with that intention! On the other hand, what is a Zombie apocalypse, but a non-negotiable quarantine?
> 
> Anyway, just wanted to say that before you started reading. Now, have fun! :)

It didn’t take long for them to fall into a routine.

The kids woke up a lot earlier than Conan and ended up watching Kamen Yaiba on TV while waiting for him to wake up. Once his alarm went off (he would never get out of bed without it), all four of them made breakfast together. Conan kept a close eye on the supplies, wincing every time their underdeveloped motor skills got the better of them, but didn’t complain.

It was an activity that kept the kids entertained and for that, he was grateful.

Then, if they weren’t filling jugs with water or taking care of other survival needs, it was more TV or book reading until lunch. After lunch, the kids started getting antsy, so he cleared a space in the living room and kitchen for them to play soccer or tag or something more active. Sure, if an adult were there, they’d probably get yelled at, but if it made the kids happy? Conan didn’t care.

Then dinner came and bed time stories and baths. They still had running water, so Conan encouraged them to bathe while they still had it. Genta kicked up a fuss, but it only took one comment from Ayumi about ‘stinky boys’ for him to go quietly.

Then it was time for bed and sleep and then they woke up to do it all over again.

The first day after barricading themselves in, Mitsuhiko’s family called him. From what Conan overheard, they had made it outside of the cordoned area, something that now included Ayumi’s apartment complex. They were working to get back inside to pick Mitsuhiko up, but it was slow going. Police and health officials wanted to keep everyone as segregated as they could, to contain the disease. They were hoping to get in next week.

Conan would be surprised if they made it in before the last zombie keeled over.

Conan hadn’t heard from Ran yet. She hadn’t called Mitsuhiko’s phone and, while that was slightly worrying, he was sure she was fine. She was tough and she had the old man with her. When they got to a good place, he was sure they would call.

He tried not to think too hard on the two phones in his pocket, his Conan-phone and his Shinichi-phone. He hadn’t been able to grab a power cord at the store and none of the ones Ayumi had matched his charging port. So once the charge left them, that was it.

He had to use them sparingly.

The Shinichi-phone ended up with his stuff in the little corner he’d claimed, to keep the children from getting curious. The Conan-phone he always kept on hand.

(Both of them felt a little like Pandora’s Box. If he called Ran, would she pick up? Would he hear her voice, safe and sound? Or would it ring and ring and ring, never to be answered? Was she already…?)

(He kept his phones off. _To conserve power_ , he told himself. He was really just running from the truth. It was better to not know and have hope, than to call and lose one more person to this pandemic.)

For a while, they were able to settle into the routine. For a while, he was able to keep the kids occupied as he listened to the news on the TV late at night. For a while, he was able to keep them ignorant of the slowly dwindling state of their cupboards.

Food lasted long, but the pandemic lasted longer.

Like Conan had suspected, there were foolish people who got too antsy, too aggravated, and decided to try and eradicate the threat themselves. They only managed to start the three week count down over again.

Others got caught when they ventured out for food. Any foreign sound called a zombie horde at a moment's notice, but people were desperate. Those that hadn't left by plane for foreign detainment had decided to stick it out and hope for the best. That hope was fading, alongside food stores.

Every day, the little radio Conan had found in Ayumi's mother's closet brought a higher death toll. Every day, the number of people left in Tokyo got smaller. Every day, the three week timer to the end, restarted.

Even with only a kid's appetite to work with, Conan was running out of food in the pantry. They would need to restock soon, but Conan didn't want to take any of the kids out onto the street, not until a larger number of zombies had fallen to the Black Rot. So he did the next best thing.

He raided the apartments on either side of Ayumi's.

A lot of people had attempted to leave by boat or plane when this thing first started. Many were detained to check for infection before being allowed to claim sanctuary. More still had been lost to the zombies themselves or the depression that plagued the apocalyptic society. Either way, they were never coming back. So any food left in their fridge or pantry was free game.

That was how Conan found himself sneaking out at night, after the kids had fallen asleep, with his skateboard in tow.

When propped against the wall, top-side down, the board had enough of an angle to help Conan onto the concrete barrier that separated one apartment balcony from the next. The board itself was more than strong enough to hold a six-year-old's weight, making this the _one_ time Conan was grateful for his small size, both before and after the Zombie Pandemic.

Once the board was in place, he could easily scale the concrete barrier to the next apartment over. Though the lack of railing at that height made him a little wary, he had also been at much higher heights with a lot less support under him. 

(Once particular moment of being thrown out if an airship came to mind.)

(Man, what he wouldn't do to go back to a time like that.)

(At least things like zombies had the same plausibility as _magic_ back then.)

Once on a new balcony, he would check out what he could see before knocking on the glass doors. If it looked like the place still had people or had recently been ransacked, Conan bypassed it. Anything with lights on or the front door open was just too much of a risk —for zombies and people alike. This far into the pandemic, sometimes the later was worse than the former.

Apartments that looked like abandoned, Conan gave a precautionary knock, just to be sure, before picking the locks to the doors. He couldn’t break the glass, both because of the industrial strength and just in case it alerted near-by wandering hordes to his location, so the make-shift lock picks were his best bet. He hated having to learn such a criminal skill, but he knew it would be needed sooner rather than later.

If he wanted to survive long enough to be a detective again, he had to make do.

Once inside, it was a simple matter of loading up his backpack with everything useful that would fit, and then making his way back to Ayumi's apartment. He would continue to raid the apartment until it was empty, then move on to the next. Once the whole floor was emptied of useful resources, he used his suspenders to rappel his way down to the next.

(Conan tried not to think of what he would do when he had emptied all of the apartments below them. There was no way to adhere the suspenders to a higher floor, so there was no way to climb other than the internal stairwell. With the halls filled with the sounds of shuffling and groans…)

(Well, Conan decided to worry about that when they got there.)

These raids had lasted them quite a long time. Some of the food was starting to rot, when Conan got there, but there were canned food and bags of rice that could tide them over. They just had to make things last.

The children never questioned why they never ran out of supplies. They never seemed to notice just how low they got. Mitsuhiko had looked over at Conan once or twice, but Ayumi and Genta never batted an eye. They just happily ate their meal and talked about the latest episode of whatever kids’ show they were watching on Netflix.

(All the local stations had stopped making shows, everyone either locked in their homes or gone entirely. Animation studios were pretty much non-existent. )

(Most of the radio stations were the same. Conan had to rely on foreign stations that he could barely get on the most cloudless of days, or amateur radios that were stuck in place, just like him. Though he didn’t have a microphone to communicate with, he could listen in just fine.)

(He didn't think about his phone, still turned off in his little corner of Ayumi's house. He tried not to think of the fact that Mitsuhiko _still_ hadn’t received a call from Ran, more than a month in.

He tried not to think of what that meant.)

With the majority of Tokyo gone, the increase of the zombie horde had slowed significantly.

Unfortunately, they didn't seem to be decreasing.

"I don’t understand," Conan muttered to himself as he traversed across the apartments he knew were empty. "They’re dead. The news channels showed corpses with the obvious signs of decay. Yet the people on the radio say they're seeing the same ones, even after several weeks. They _are_ decaying, but the _rate_ of decomposition is…"

His self-musing fell silent as he opened a pantry door, only to find it empty. He frowned and moved to the next one, but a quick check found the rest of them empty too. The fridge had also been cleared of any usable resources. 

Strange… Conan could have sworn that he had left some cans behind the last time he was here, but he could be mistaken. He’d gone through a lot of rooms by this point. Even _his_ memory could get a little spotty after a while.

Shrugging to himself, he backtracked and picked up his skateboard to prop it up against the next barrier to connect to the other balcony.

“It could be that whatever Haibara was working on messed with the known rate of decay,” he continued to mutter to himself. It was the only kind of intelligent conversation he got now-a-days, so he made the most of it when he could. “It was a possibility I had thought of before. If that’s the case, these zombies might last a lot longer than I first thought. If we run out of supplies before then…”

His thoughts whirled at the implications as he took stock of the new room.

The apartment was a mirror-image layout of Ayumi's, which seemed to be the case for every odd-numbered apartment he visited. It had the kitchen to the left instead of the right, with the bedrooms on the opposite side, and some furniture in the little half-living room. The coffee table had a thick layer of dust on it, telling of the lack of occupants. It was likely that the apartment had been empty long before the zombie apocalypse had been set loose. 

It was probably safe so long as the front door wasn't open to the hall, he decided. It was a little hard to see from his angle, but if he got close to the very edge of the balcony and stood on his toes… there!

Closed door, a drawer and bookcase in front of it, toppled over onto a person — _a person?!_

"Oi!" he yelled and smacked his hands on the glass.

It was futile, he was sure. There was no telling how long that person had been trapped there, but if the dust on the coffee table was anything to go by, it was far too long. Even if they had initially been uninjured from the bookcase falling on them, they would have died from dehydration _long_ before he got—!

Their hand twitched.

Conan held his breath and dug out his lock picks. His hands shook as he fumbled with the lock, making it that much harder to get the thin pieces of metal to slide inside. He cursed openly, multiple times, until he finally managed to twist the lock open. Successful, he reached for the handle…only to stop.

No human should have been able to last long after dehydration. The coffee table had enough dust to account for far more time than the zombie outbreak, yet the bookcases and drawer set was an obvious attempt to bar the front door against an incoming threat. It was obvious that the person had been fleeing from the zombies or at least knew about the outbreak. What if…

What if the person wasn’t human anymore?

Conan's grip tightened on the handle before he let his eyes drop to the figure trapped under the bookcase. He found himself pinned in place by a piercing indigo gaze.

Those eyes, though foggy from lack of water, were in no way clouded over by death. Pale skin looked sallow, but still held a tint of life to it. For how long, Conan didn't know. If he hesitated though, he knew it wouldn't be for much longer. 

He threw open the balcony door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! :D Kaito's here!
> 
> Except... he's not doing so hot.
> 
> Don't worry! I'm sure Conan will save him! :) :) :)
> 
> See you next week!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan or Magic Kaito, only the idea for this fic.
> 
> PS - Hey, so I don't know if I've said this in another chapter and I'm too lazy to go check, but if anyone thinks they can write a better DCMK-Zombie AU than me, **please do**. Or Apocalyptic AU. Or a Survival AU of any kind. 
> 
> I would love to read more AUs that put tiny!Conan or morally-just!Shinichi into situations that really test their skills and resolve. I would also like to see some AUs where Kaito's whole revenge scheme gets upended because people have _more important_ things to worry about, like where their next meal is coming from or if their neighbor is going to turn on them (because of a zombie virus or otherwise). :) So if this fic inspires anyone, please write and let me read your awesome stuff!
> 
> Anyway, sorry for the sudden promo (is it a promo?). Now to return you to the regularly scheduled Zombie AU! This time, with 100% more Kaito! :D Yay!
> 
> I hope you enjoy the new chapter!
> 
> [Smiles]
> 
> :)

"Are you coherent?" Conan asked as he took cautious steps forward. Dark eyes widened in shock before pale lips parted to answer. Instead, the other was wracked with wheezy coughs. "I'll get you something to drink."

The other shot him a weak, but grateful look, then let their head drop back into the position he'd found them in. For a moment, he was worried they had just died in front of him, but a wheezy gasp was enough to set him off to his task. 

He ran to the kitchen and started searching the cabinets. He found glasses up in one of the higher ones above the counter. Pulling one out, he hesitated.

Using a glass like this, 95% of the water would end up on the floor. If he could find a straw, the effects of pressure on siphons would allow for the person to drink about 85% of the cup before needing to be tipped… But that would require for them to be able to reach the straw in the first place.

The way they were pinned, with nothing but their head and hands free, that wouldn’t be possible.

A cup wouldn't work.

Glancing around, he found another solution and winced. Still, it was the best he could do with what was available to him, so he grabbed it and filled it up with water.

Carefully, he made his way back to the front door and gently knelt down.

"Sorry if it’s demeaning," he said as he set a low-edged bowl on the ground. "But I wasn’t sure you would be able to drink from a glass, with the way you’re trapped."

If the person was at all humiliated, they didn’t show it. Instead, they just lifted their head and allowed him to move the bowl under them. Then they just dropped their head down and sucked up every last drop they could get. Desperate slurping sounds filled the air until the bowl was empty. Then the person raised their head and let Conan reclaim the bowl.

He refilled the bowl and returned, repeating the process several more times before the person's thirst seemed to be quenched.

At that point, the person laid their head down and gave a relieved sighed. Conan watched with interest, taking in everything he could observe.

Up close, the person was more obviously male, about sixteen years old, much like Conan's real age. He was pale, with typical dark hair, but possessed atypical blue eyes, speaking of some foreign descent —again, much like Shinichi. 

Unlike Shinichi, he suffered from acute dehydration. Sunken eyes, chapped lips, pale dry skin. Conan would bet that, should he pinch the other's wrist, the skin would sag rather than snapping back immediately into place. The teen had to have been here for at least a day and a half, possibly two if the smell of urine was anything to go by. At three days, he would be completely unresponsive and on the verge of death.

The fact that he could drink water and not immediately reject it was a miracle in and of itself.

"Can you talk?" Conan asked.

"Can," the boy croaked. "Sorta. Hard."

Hard to talk or hard to think, either was likely true. Conan would try to keep the questions short and surface level.

"What's your name?" Conan asked.

"Kuroba…" The boy wheezed and coughed. He swallowed thickly before finishing. "Kuroba Kaito."

Kuroba Kaito, not a name Conan was familiar with. Then again, he hadn’t expected it to be. "How long have you been here?"

"Trapped… two days…"

About what he expected. "Is this your apartment?"

Kuroba shook his head and redirected his gaze to the side. A pair of professional lock pick tools lay just out of reach, as if he'd dropped them in his haste to secure the front door. 

Conan didn’t need a verbal answer for that one. He would double-check just in case. "You broke in, looking for food or shelter, correct?"

Kuroba nodded.

"And then I assume the bookcase fell on you when you tried barring the door from the zombies." Conan looked up. "Fortunately, it looks like you lodged the door shut when it fell, so you don’t have to worry about getting attacked, but with the way the set of drawers fell on top… I suspect you can't get free on your own?"

Kuroba gave a miserable shake of his head. 

Conan bit his lip and scanned the fallen furniture. As small as he was, he wouldn’t be any help in sheer strength, but… if he could find something to use as a fulcrum and lever the bookcase up like a car jack…

"I don’t have anyone strong enough to lift that," Conan said as his mind raced. "But I might have another idea."

Kuroba treated him to a mystified look, but Conan was already off.

In the bathroom, he tugged down the shower rod, grateful that they were just pressure fitted, not bolted to the wall. The fulcrum was harder to find, but the living room had a sturdy looking foot stool that might hold long enough for Kuroba to slip out. 

Tools in hand, he returned to the front door.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," Conan said aloud, not unlike how he spoke to the Shounen Tantei-Dan. "If I put the foot stool here, I can slide the shower rod underneath the bookcase here and use it to lever up the rest. It'll probably take all of my weight to even budge it, so you have to press up at the same time, got it?"

It took a while for the words to sink in, but once they did, indigo eyes went wide with hope as Kuroba eagerly nodded. Conan gave a resolute nod himself before he set his tools in place and grabbed hold of the free end of the shower rod with both hands. "Ready?"

Kuroba gathered his hands underneath him, not unlike how one might do a push up.

"On three," Conan ordered. "One. Two. Three!"

He dropped his legs out from under him, letting his whole weight hang from the shower rod. At the same time, Kuroba pushed up, getting just enough leverage to push back on the book case.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the heavy wooden case began to rise. The set of drawers shifted with it, causing Kuroba to strain. Books rained down from where they'd been trapped between Kuroba and the shelf. They spilled out onto the floor, catching Conan's attention as Kuroba's shoulders pushed up.

Conan could just make out the shape of his torso, tense against the edges of the shelf. His chest was still pressed against the ground, but slowly levering up, followed by his stomach and hips. His legs were revealed from the avalanche of books, thighs down to calves down to…

Conan let go of the shower rod and dropped to the ground.

Kuroba let out a surprised, _pained_ grunt went the bookcase collapsed back onto him, his extra leverage suddenly gone.

Conan should be worried that he'd hurt the man. He should be worried that he'd snapped the other's spine or caused contusions or other internal bleeding.

Instead, all he could focus on was the after-image in his mind.

A blood-soaked ankle, surrounded by books, with tell-tale teeth marks sunk into flesh.

"You've been Bitten," he whispered, as if fearing his own conclusion. He fixed a horrified gaze onto desperate indigo. "You're going to turn."

"Not!" Kuroba choked out. "I'm not!"

But it was a lie. Everyone that got Bit turned. There were no exceptions. None.

"Please!" Kuroba coughed and reached for him. "Help—!"

Conan skittered back, out of arm’s reach. 

When had Kuroba been bitten? It couldn’t have been too long ago if the wound was still fresh. It had to be at least two days ago though, since he had been trapped for that long. Did the Bite have anti-coagulant in it? It would be the first Conan had heard of it, but then again, he had never witnessed a Bitten person past the first moment of the Bite. Neither had any of the others on the radio.

He didn't know when Kuroba had been Bit, but no one had lasted past three days without turning. Kuroba had been trapped here for two. Regardless of when the Bite had happened, the countdown was already nearing its end.

Conan had to leave.

He had to keep the kids safe.

Without him, they would have to venture out for food and as young as they were—!

Conan wouldn’t let them die. And he refused to die himself. Not here. Not after everything he had lived through so far.

"I'm sorry." His voice cracked as he shuffled backwards. "I'm _sorry_!"

"Please! Wait!" Kuroba begged. "Just… water?"

Water… the teen wanted water. He had been trapped for two days. His body was severely dehydrated. If Conan hadn't been here, he might have died before the Bite could take effect. Even now, he was likely so parched that it hurt. To leave him like that… it was cruel.

At the same time… Conan couldn't bring himself to kill someone, not even to put them out if their misery.

He felt his lips twist in pain as his gaze bounced from Kuroba to the kitchen and back. Finally, he nodded. Kuroba let out a sigh of relief and seemed to sag.

Conan bit his lip in anguish before sidling over to the kitchen. He took a moment to grab any canned goods he could find and fill his backpack with resources before turning to the bowl he had used earlier. He filled it to the brim with water and then took it in hand. He stared down at the shallow dish, heart heavy. 

It was enough for two mouthful, three if Kuroba made it last. In a few hours, he'd be thirsty again, but this time, Conan wouldn't be there to re-fill his water dish. No one would be.

And that, Conan decided, was a miserable way to die.

So before he could talk himself out of it, he set to work on another solution.

Scurrying around the room, he grabbed a funnel, a roll of aluminum foil, an empty paper-towel tube, and all the contents of the ice cube dispenser. 

The filled bowl went in front of Kuroba. The aluminum foil went inside and around the cardboard tube, which he adhered to the side of the bowl with some duct tape from his bag. The funnel, he flipped over and stuck over top the ice box, duct taping that, too, to seal it completely. On the other end, he attached the funnel to the aluminum wrapped tube and propped it up on the footstool so the tube led to the bowl at an angle. Lastly, he surrounded the funnel with books to keep it steady and pointed down.

It was shoddy work, but the system should allow for the ice to drip down into the bowl as it melted, making sure Kuroba had a steady supply for the next few hours.

"Or however long the ice lasts," Conan finished his explanation. "I know it’s not the best but… I don't want your last few hours to be miserable too."

Kuroba just gave him a grateful smile.

"I… I gotta go now." Conan swallowed thickly when that grin melted into a despondent look. "I'm... sorry I couldn’t help you."

Because, even if he wanted to free the other man, it was more logical to have a zombie trapped for weeks, than to have a man free for a day.

It didn’t make the guilt hurt any less when Conan turned to the balcony and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Smile Intensifies]
> 
> :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan or Magic Kaito, only the idea for this fic.
> 
> **WARNING! GORE AHEAD!**
> 
> If you want to skip it, I would suggest stopping after Conan hands over the knife and picking up where Conan says "You... are a horrible human being."
> 
> (You might skip some introspection in there, but it's not too much.)
> 
> Anyway, onwards! :D

Conan never intended to return.

He never intended to step foot in that apartment again, not after he'd locked the door and sealed it shut behind him. Not when he knew, _for a fact_ , that a live zombie inhabited that room. Not when he knew that nothing remained of Kuroba Kaito. 

Which is why, when he continued on with his route for scavenging apartments, he nearly jumped out of his skin when something rammed into the glass doors of the balcony.

He jumped back, nearly pitching himself over the railing, in order to face his attacker. Only to find… nothing?

There was no one there. 

Then what had—?

_THUNK!_

Conan startled as a book flew into the glass, causing the barrier to vibrate with the impact.

Someone was throwing books? Who…?

Conan craned his neck back, trying to get just the right angle and… there! 

Kuroba was still stuck by the front door, ice long melted, no doubt. He had one hand freer than before, likely due to the aborted rescue attempt. He had just enough leverage to reach for a book, wind it back, and throw. 

_THUNK!_

Conan's brow furrowed in confusion. This wasn’t right. No one lasted more than three days with a zombie Bite. But he had spoken with Kuroba the day before last, making this at least _four_ days after Kuroba had been bit. He shoved have been Turned already. So why…?

_THUNK!_

Conan scowled and set about unlocking the door with his makeshift set of lock picks. He pondered the thought of stealing Kuroba's, but dismissed it. If it turned out that Kuroba was still of sound mind, Conan very much doubted he would appreciate a child stealing from him. 

(And if he could get another mature set of hands to scavenge resources, the whole group just might…)

_THUNK!_

"You know," Conan mused loudly in annoyance as he shoved the door open. "If you used those books in stacks to incrementally raise the bookcase, you might have been able to free yourself before I came back."

The absolutely shit-eating grin told Conan that Kuroba _did_ realize that, and had still decided to toss books at the window in the off-chance Conan got curious enough to wander in. Kuroba opened his mouth, to make some kind of smart-ass remark no doubt, only to fall victim to a coughing fit.

Ah, right. Two days, no water, dehydration… Again.

Conan shuffled forward, looking for any signs of zombification, but Kuroba looked much like he had two days ago. Pale, chapped, weak, but overall still human. Human enough that Conan didn't feel particularly wary about getting close enough to grab the bowl he'd left, rip off the tape and take it with him to the kitchen.

After a repeat of last time's water delivery service, Conan dropped down to sit cross-legged, watching as Kuroba collapsed, panting, just to the side of the shallow bowl. He propped his chin on his hand, stared down at Kuroba, and drawled. "Well? Any particular reason you decided to remain trapped here instead of making a break for freedom? Or even just the kitchen?"

Somehow, Conan instinctively knew, whatever came out of Kuroba's mouth would be just as dumb as any number of Shounen-Tantei-dan schemes. And they were _six_.

Sure enough, Conan felt himself losing brain cells when Kuroba cooed. "Aw, but if I just got up and walked away, how could I prove to you I was telling the truth?"

Conan almost hated to ask. "The truth?"

"I told you I wouldn’t change, even though I was Bitten." Kuroba waved his free hand. "See? Still very much in control of my facilities. No rotting flesh or hungry groans… Well, I am hungry, being trapped here for going on four days now, but not for brains! Promise!"

"Speaking of which," Conan's eyes narrowed. "How have you not become one with the living dead? No one makes it past three days."

"Well, you see, it’s quite easy, Chibi-chan!" Kuroba brushed his fingers to the side, flippant. "The pamphlets they handed out made the whole thing look really bad. Rotting skin? Melting organs? Cannibalism? Really not part of my aesthetic. So I kindly said 'no thank you' and sent them on their way."

Conan stared. Kuroba sat there grinned.

"I'm leaving you here." Conan got to his feet.

"Wait, please no! I was kidding!" Kuroba flailed from beneath the bookcase. "I’m sorry! I'm sorry! I'll be serious! Please don't go!"

Conan paused at the doorway, then let out a sigh and turned back. "Let's hear it then."

"Okay, so the truth —the actual, real-life truth, no joking—!"

"Out with it!"

"I found a magical stone that granted immortality. And then I broke it."

Conan stared. Kuroba kept up a strained smile from his trapped position. 

Conn nodded, then mutely turned away.

"Chibi-kun, wait! I'm being serious this time! Please don't go!"

"I know that I might look like a child to you, but ‘child’ and ‘stupid’ are not synonymous." Conan glared from the door.

"I never took you for a fool." Kuroba fixed his gaze on him, all mirth lost. "After all, you made it this far on your own. I've seen _adults_ that couldn't claim the same."

Well… at least he would admit to that.

"Not _completely_ alone," Conan grumbled as he vehemently ignored the way his cheeks heated. "But still, trying to claim magic just because I'm a _kid_ —!"

"I am claiming nothing but the truth," Kuroba said. "And I can prove it."

That cut the protest straight from Conan's lips. He frowned. "How?"

"Give me a knife."

Conan's breath caught in his throat.

“This isn’t some ploy to get you to bring me a weapon and get you in close enough range for me to exact my revenge for leaving me here again,” Kuroba assured him. “I’m not angry about that.”

“I wasn’t concerned you would be.” Although, now that Kuroba mentioned it, that is something Conan should _very much_ _be wary of_.

“You aren’t? Oh… well, good!” Kuroba held out a hand. “Knife then?”

Conan eyed him before slinking over to the kitchen to retrieve a sharp knife. He returned to the doorway, but kept well out of reach as he dropped the knife and kicked it over to Kuroba, then took cover behind the door. If Kuroba wanted to take revenge, Conan wasn’t going to give him any measure to work with.

“Thanks!” Kuroba sang as he tested the knife with the edge of his thumb…

Then stabbed it into his neck.

Metal sunk deep into flesh. Blood poured from the wound and Kuroba’s mouth as he coughed. The teen sucked in a strained breath as he pulled the knife out and collapsed to the ground. He fell deathly still.

Blood pooled on the ground between them, slowly trickling its way across the floor.

Conan’s brain took a few seconds to realize what the _absolute moron_ had just done. Had he really just _killed_ himself!? Right in front of Conan?! _Intentionally_?! Was he really dehydrated enough to make a decision like that?! Or was it…

Was it his last sane thought before the zombie virus took hold? Had he been off when he first gave Conan the estimation of his time trapped? Maybe instead of being here four days, Kuroba had actually been here for a little under three? Maybe he didn’t want to fall victim to the virus, but knew Conan wouldn’t kill him, so he had asked for a knife _himself_ —!

Conan’s thoughts screeched to a halt when Kuroba gave a full-body twitch.

Like the amusingly terrible horror movie Conan’s life had become, Kuroba sucked in a heaving breath before coughing out a waterfall of blood. Conan ducked further behind the door, absently glad that he was outside of the splash zone. There was no way he was going to explain blood splatters to the kids.

Once Kuroba had finished clearing his throat from his terrible decision-making skills, he looked up at Conan…

And smiled.

(There was blood in his teeth.)

(But he was _alive_.)

“You…” Conan started. “Are a _horrible_ human being.”

“Aw! You would say that to someone who just came back from the dead?”

“You could have warned me!”

“You would have run away!”

Conan wasn’t sure he would have. He might have tried to stop Kuroba for sure, since he strongly believed that not even _criminals_ deserved death, but run away? No. If Kuroba believed his delusion that much, Conan would have stuck around to hear him out, if only to humor him in his final hour. Dehydration would have taken its toll by that point, because no one could come up with such a fabricated story.

Except… it didn’t appear to be a fabrication.

“Check it out!” Kuroba crane his neck to the side and tapped a finger to his neck. “No mark!”

It was true. Though there was plenty of blood to mark where the knife would have entered, the skin was perfectly seamless. At best, Conan could just make out a very faint line that might be a scar or might be an after-image from what his brain decided _should_ be a scar.

It was weird. It was horrifying. It was…

“Impossible,” Conan hissed. “That… that’s impossible! Something like that—!”

“You call it impossible.” Kuroba gave a very awkward, still-pinned-under-this-shelf shrug. “I call it _magical_.”

Conan treated him to a petulant scowled. “Magic doesn’t exist.”

“Up until a month ago, neither did zombies,” Kuroba countered and _tsk!_ He had Conan there.

“You said it was a stone that granted immortality,” Conan said. “That you destroyed it. How does that explain… _this_?”

"The stone was the _Succubus Kiss_ ," Kuroba said lowly. He reached towards his neck and tugged at a small chain. A transparent, sealed container came with it, a red glistening powder trapped inside. "I got it right before this whole thing began. Broke it to pieces and ground it to dust. I think I accidentally breathed some of the powdered stone in. That might have been what changed me, but with magic… who knows? Maybe it placed a curse on me for breaking it in the first place."

" _Succubus Kiss_ … but that's… that's the last gem Kaitou KID stole. The one he never returned..." Conan's eyes went wide as he made the connection. " _You_ are…?"

"It’s nice to meet you face to face, Tantei-kun." Kuroba — _KID_ grinned. "I wasn't sure we would ever meet again. After all, I found what I was looking for."

"The one you never returned… that was your goal?" Conan's brow furrowed, "Why didn’t you go after it from the start?"

"Simple: I didn't know it was the right one," KID gave a very squished shrug. "I didn’t know if the thing I sought existed at all."

“You didn’t even know if it was _real_?” Conan squawked. “How much of an idiot are you!?”

“A big one. And, apparently, an unlucky one.” KID flashed a painful grin. “Seems to run in the family, really.”

Run in the family? What did he…? Conan’s eyes widened. “The first KID. He was your father.”

“I’m surprised you even knew there were two,” KID said, eyebrows rising, impressed.

“My dad used to go to KID’s heists all the time,” Conan groused. “He was really disappointed when he disappeared.”

“Ah, Pop’s favorite critic.” KID nodded as if that made any sense. “Somehow, I’m not surprised that you are his son. Precocious, both of you.”

“Hey!”

“Anyway, dear old Dad had learned of an organization that was trying to find Pandora, the stone said to grant immortality. He wanted to put a stop to them. They put a stop to _him_ instead.” KID’s face darkened uncharacteristically. “When I learned about that, I took up the mantel of KID. Vowed to find Pandora, crush it, and then crush their whole crime syndicate. I did the first two, but… it looks like the zombie apocalypse might have beat me to the third.”

Evil crime syndicate searching for immortality… Now where had Conan heard of _that_ before?

(Speaking of that certain organization… how was Kir? Bourbon? …Vermouth? Had any of them made it out alive? Or were they…?)

“What are you planning to do now?” Conan asked. “Sounds like you’ve fulfilled your mission. What’s the next step?”

“Honestly?” KID rested his chin on the floor and suddenly, he was Kuroba again. “I don’t know. I never planned to get this far. I thought I would be chasing after Pandora for the rest of my life. I thought I would have to hide from my friends and family until my dying days. Days of which would be a lot sooner if I played cat-and-mouse with the organization I told you about. To actually _find_ Pandora and _destroy_ it…?”

Yeah. Conan understood that. He understood having a life planned out, straight-forward, no tricks. He understood having the rug pulled out from beneath his feet and being left with something very _different_ from what he had planned. Something so different and so very _lonely_.

He understood KID’s plight, even if his own hadn’t been his choice.

He also knew how to move forward from it.

“If you don’t have anywhere to go, come with us,” Conan offered.

“’Us’?” Kuroba repeated.

“Me and the Shounen-Tantei-dan. We’ve been living in Ayumi’s apartment since this whole thing started. I’ve been taking care of them, but…” Conan felt his face heat at his next words. “Having a second pair of mature hands would help.”

“Why _Tantei-kun_! You need my help? Does this make us allies? Friends? _Partners_? Is this a _proposal_?!”

“I just don’t want the kids going out into zombie-infested areas!” Conan hissed. “And I already know _you’re_ immune! Might as well put that to good use.”

“Such mean words! Do I sense a tsundere here?”

“…That’s it. I’m leaving you here.”

“No! Wait! Tantei-kun, I’m sorry! Please don’t leave me! Dying by dehydration really isn’t fun!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for those of you who skipped the Gore, Kaito stabbed himself, died, then resurrected like some cheap videogame character.
> 
> Also, Kudos to [goodonebadgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodonebadgirl/pseuds/goodonebadgirl) for figuring out that Pandora would make an appearance. I was trying to be subtle, but apparently things like 'I do mean ever after' in the tags throws subtly out the window. :)
> 
> Anyways, I'll see you all next week! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan or Magic Kaito, only the idea for this fic.
> 
> **WARNING! GORE AHEAD!**
> 
> If you want to skip it, I would suggest stopping after the line:
> 
> "He should have remembered to knock"
> 
> And pick back up at:
> 
> "So yeah. He was a bit pre-occupied."
> 
> (You might skip some introspection in there, but it's not too much.)
> 
> Anyway, onwards! :D

The introduction of KID to the Shounen Tantei-dan actually went fairly well.

"Guys, meet Kuroba Kaito," Conan introduced reluctantly. "He'll be staying with us for a while."

"Hello!" Kuroba waved excitedly, making cards and scarves fly from his sleeves, though strangely, they never made it to the ground. "Kuroba Kaito, magician extraordinaire, at your service!"

At the mention of ‘magician’, the kids bowled over their own mis-trust and hopped around eagerly for a new entertainment option. It seemed that even TV and sports could only last so long. While Mitsuhiko and Conan liked to read, Ayumi and Genta quickly ran out of favored activities, leaving them to prod the others when they grew bored.

(They were so eager that they didn’t ask where the teen had come from. If they did, Kuroba was quick to launch into some nonsensical tale that distracted them so wholly that it took several hours for them to realize he had never answered their question.)

Kuroba was a fix to the boredom problem, even if he was a cause of others.

Like how he now laid claim to the other bedroom, all by himself, due to the loud snoring problem he had at night (one which Conan was sure was _fake_ ). This put Conan and Mitsuhiko out with Genta in the living room, but it also meant that Conan could hide his things more easily from the kids. So long as he trusted Kuroba not to go through his stuff.

Which, as a thief, he really shouldn’t.

“Can I ask why you have two different phones?” Kuroba asked, holding up the identical red casings. “Most kids your age are lucky to have _one_.”

“It’s a work phone!” Conan hissed, snatching up both and shoving them back into his pile of things. On second thought, he really should have found a better hiding place than the closet. Or at least invested in a _lock_.

(The shame of living in a zombie apocalypse where one couldn’t even get online orders delivered to the door. If delivery were still a thing, Conan would have a lot less trouble to deal with in his life.)

“A work phone. For an _elementary schooler_.” Conan didn’t need to see Kuroba’s face to see the doubt there. The emotion practically _filled_ his voice to overflowing.

“Look, you had your magic gem, I have mine!” Conan snapped. “Unlike _you_ , I don’t want to discuss it.”

Surprisingly enough, that shut the teen up.

“Okay, Tantei-kun.” Kuroba bobbed his head. “I won’t ask then.”

Conan clenched his teeth against the guilt in his chest, but didn’t take back his words. Because they were true.

He _didn’t_ want to talk about the ‘magic gem’ that was Kudou Shinichi. He didn’t want to talk about trying to find a way back to himself, a way back to _her_. He didn’t want to talk about how his only lead, _Haibara_ , was likely a zombie, if not just a pile of bones by this point. He didn’t want to think that his chances of returning were likely the same.

So he didn’t.

And Kuroba didn’t ask.

Instead, he let Conan hide the things he needed to hide.

He let him bury the phones beneath his small set of personal belongings. He let him slip into the bedroom when Mitsuhiko’s parents called with more updates about the quarantine. He let him listen to the worrying news on the radio in his room, outside of ear-shot of the kids.

Maybe he knew just how hard Conan was trying to hold everything together. Maybe he just thought he needed space.

Either way, Conan was glad.

Even when something _did_ come up, it was round-about, evasive —sneaky like the thief himself.

“You know, I could probably modify this radio so we could pick up a stronger signal,” Kuroba said one day. “Add a microphone so we could converse with those other guys trapped in the city. What do you think?”

Conan made a discerning hum. “A larger radius would be better. It’s hard to get the international news unless it’s a really clear day. Where would you find a radio though?”

“Most phones have them,” Kuroba said, nonchalant and patient. “If we have any lying around that we don’t use, I could repurpose them for parts.”

Conan knew what he was getting at. He knew what he was asking. And Conan didn’t have any reason _not to_. But still…

“Ayumi’s home phone might be okay to use,” Conan said in silent deflection. “After this, she probably won’t live here anymore, so she won’t have a use for the phones. She probably won’t care if you take them apart… Leave the recording machine though. She might have a use for that.”

Kuroba stayed quiet for a moment before nodding and leaving Conan to himself. He understood the message, loud and clear. Ayumi had no use for the recording machine, nothing but for the message her mom left on the device. Conan had no use for a phone slowly losing battery and destined to die, nothing but for the person it once belonged to.

For both of them, the devices were the last string that tied them to their previous life.

For both of them, they would have to give it up, sooner or later.

(It was always much sooner than Conan wanted. Always.)

It was morose thoughts like these that lead to Conan speaking up as he watched Kuroba take apart the land-line phones and start laying out pieces by category.

“Promise me,” Conan said quietly, chin on his knee. “That, if something happens to me, you will take care of the kids.”

Kuroba paused and looked up at that. He raised an eyebrow in silence.

“From the news I’ve heard on the radio, the latest wave of undead are heading into the black putrefaction phase. The second wave have already stopped moving and the first wave are nothing but bones,” Conan explained. “You should only need to keep the kids safe for another three weeks or so, barring any dumbasses who snap and try to take the fight to the zombies.”

Kuroba sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’m not taking your job from you, Tantei-kun. Besides, I’m not sure the kids will even _listen_ to me at this point, not like how they listen to you.”

“Promise,” Conan insisted. “That you’ll take care of them.”

Kuroba stared long and hard before nodding. “Okay. If, for some reason you can’t, I will.”

“Good.” Conan nodded and couldn’t help a relieved sigh. His shoulders felt two tons lighter now. He didn’t realize just how big a burden keeping the kids safe had been.

Now that it was truly a shared burden, he felt like he could _breathe_ again.

Something must have shown on his face, because Kuroba frowned and set down his small set of tools. “Tantei-kun, are you _planning_ for something to happen to you?”

Conan let out a bitter laugh. “When _doesn’t_ something happen to me?”

Kuroba’s frown deepened. From that look alone, Conan knew he wasn’t getting away without an explanation.

Which is how he found Kuroba joining him on his scavenging hunts from then on.

See, Kuroba ate a lot more than kids did, especially since he was a teenage boy. That meant the food in the pantry disappeared a lot quicker and Conan had to make more nightly trips more often.

The kids still had no clue, even after bringing Kuroba back home after one (though Mitsuhiko’s looks were _very_ suspicious now). Kuroba knew about them _in theory_ , since, again, Conan had picked him up on one and had blatantly stolen food in front of him.

What the teen didn’t know, was just how far Conan had gotten.

“I already went through all the apartments below us,” Conan explained. “I can’t reach the apartments on the other side of the building. There is an emergency stairwell, but I can’t reach it by myself, since it connects to the hallway rather than an apartment.”

“And you don’t want to risk going into the hall and drawing the attention of a horde.” Kuroba deduced.

Good. It meant he was able to hear the same groans and shuffles Conan could.

“Exactly.” Conan nodded. “So my thought is to go down to the ground floor and make our way to the store we went to before this whole thing began. I don’t know if anything is left on the shelves by this point, but I don’t really have any other options left.”

“Hmmm… I think we might be able to repurpose some of the cabinet doors or other furniture to make a bridge to the emergency stairwell. That would be highly unstable without some good support though.” Kuroba said. “Or, here’s an idea, just go up?”

Conan treated him to a sour look.

“What? _What_? It’s a legitimate question!” Kuroba argued. “How did you get back up from the lower apartments?”

“With these.” Conan held out the suspenders and demonstrated his usual tactics —something that Kuroba had actually joined in on when Conan brought him back.

“Oh yeah. Right.” Kuroba quirked his mouth to the side. “And those only work from the point you attach them to, right?”

“Correct.” Conan nodded and craned his neck to look at the apartments above him. “If I had managed to get them secured at the top level, we might have a little more time, but that won’t solve our problem fully. If I could somehow get to the _other side_ of the building, then we might be in business.”

“Well, why not up and over?” Kuroba suggested.

Conan treated him to another sour look. “Didn’t you hear what I _just_ —?”

**_BAM!_ **

**_Psssssh!_ **

**_Klink!_ **

Conan stared at the gun in Kuroba’s hand —the _grappling_ gun.

The grin on Kuroba’s face was very KID-like.

“I hate you,” Conan seethed, but couldn’t help a relieved sigh. Taking in KID was turning out to be a better and better deal by the second.

Conan should really thank past!Conan for making that decision.

* * * * *

Conan should really murder past!Conan for making that decision.

“-all I’m saying is that coffee is not _nearly_ as good as chocolate. There is no argument!”

“There’s no argument because coffee is Liquid Sleep and chocolate just gives you a sugar rush.” Conan rolled his eyes as he dropped over the concrete barrier onto a new balcony. They had cleaned out everything from the last one, so they were looking for some new ground to cover. He dug out his lock picks as he continued his argument. “Besides, they shouldn’t even be in the same category! One is a drink! Another is a food! Those don’t overlap!”

“So you’re saying that, if I were to compare chocolate to, say, lemon pie, instead of coffee, then you would be okay with chocolate winning?” Kuroba perched himself on the concrete barrier, finger toying with his own lock picks. He always insisted Conan go first, so Kuroba could catch him if he fell, but then always got disappointed when Conan took first dibs on picking the lock. Weirdo. “Have I mentioned before just how surreal it is that you, a detective, learned how to lock pick, for the sole purpose of breaking into apartments and stealing shit?”

“You have. Multiple times,” Conan hissed as the tumblers clicked and the locked opened. He threw the balcony door wide. “And _no_ , I would _not_ be okay with chocolate winning, because lemon pie is—!”

Conan should have been paying attention. He should have remembered where they were, what the world had been reduced to. After so many weeks of traversing Ayumi's building, scavenging for food, he should have remembered the most basic of all checks for survival.

He should have remembered to knock.

If he had, maybe he wouldn't have had a set of yellowed teeth sinking into his neck.

It happened between one moment and the next.

He opened the door, scowling at Kuroba’s insistence on chocolate’s superiority. In the next breath, he had his throat locked against a scream as teeth dug into his flesh. Sharp calcium scraped against his bone in a grating way that made his skin want to crawl off his body. The pain hit next and he gasped.

**_BAM!_ **

The jaws released him. 

**_BAM!_ **

The zombie jerked back from the blow.

**_BAM!_ **

Blood and visceral sprayed his face. The razor-sharp playing card tore through a rotting jaw to the spinal column and past. The body of the undead fell to the ground with a wet _slap_! Fingers and limbs twitched, as if it were getting ready for a second go.

Conan wasn’t around to see it get up.

Hands snatched him up and held him close as they took off across the concrete boundary. One block, two, then zip down the suspender line, far faster than going up. The ride down happened in a blur, but the arrival was all too clear. 

“Conan!” Ayumi shouted.

_Shit! What were they doing up?!_

Had Mitsuhiko planned his intervention? _Tonight_ of all nights?

“What happened?!” He heard Mitsuhiko demand as Genta quietly whimpered out. “ _Did he…? Is that…?”_

Conan wanted to feel bad. This was the second time Genta had seen a Bite up-close and personal. It was the third person he was going to lose to the virus. He had already lost his family. Now he was losing one of the few friends he had left.

Conan wanted to feel remorse.

It was kind of hard to feel anything but unadulterated _agony_ though, since he was kind of missing a chunk out of his shoulder. Agony and dizziness, since he was also pretty sure that, if the zombie hadn’t nicked his carotid artery, it had come very close, so he was probably losing a lot of blood that he kind of needed to stay alive.

So yeah. He was a bit pre-occupied.

He’d get to the remorse thing later.

He was sure Genta understood.

“Is Conan okay?” Ayumi asked. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Well, if the shock and blood loss didn’t kill him, the virus likely would and after that, he didn’t think ‘okay’ would be part of his vocabulary anymore. 

Speaking of the virus though…

“Get me… _away_ …” Conan hissed through clenched teeth. It hurt to speak, words barely able to make it past his clenched teeth, but Kuroba heard him. The teen didn’t think twice before jumping into action.

“Conan-kun will be just fine!” Kuroba assured with a false cheer. “But I think he’ll need stitches. Do you think you can find the first aid kit for me?”

What was this idiot _doing_?! Conan was _not_ going to be fine! Why would he tell the kids that?!

“Ayumi will find it!”

“Thank you!” Kuroba turned his sights onto the other two. “Genta-kun, please boil some water for me, okay? Mitsuhiko, get the door to my bedroom please.”

“Yosh!” Mitsuhiko scampered over to the door as Genta ran into the kitchen and fumbled for a pot. Conan was 85% sure that boiling water was not a necessity to stitching up a wound like this, but also his brain was too fried on pain to be sure. Either way, a job would be a good distraction for Genta.

“Do we have any plastic wrap or tarps of any kind?” Kuroba asked. “This will get messy.”

“I’ll find some!” Mitsuhiko offered.

“If there aren’t any, towels that you don’t mind throwing away will be good too,” Kuroba said as he placed Conan on the bed. Conan’s hand was still pressed tightly to his shoulder, keeping pressure on the wound. Footsteps thundered off as Kuroba leaned in. “Okay, I know you won’t like it, but I have some of my sleeping gas on hand. It’ll put you out through the worst of the pain.”

“Save it,” Conan hissed.

“Tantei-kun…”

“KID.” Conan’s vision swam, but he still managed to fix his gaze onto blurry indigo. “I need you to do me a favor.”

There was a brief flutter of a carefully blank mask before Kuroba came back with a scoff. “If it’s to ignore human decency when I can obviously ease your pain, then the answer is no.”

“I need you to kill me.”

The request wasn’t met with another obnoxious rebuttal. Kuroba stared, eyes as wide as dinner plates, mouth hanging agape. 

“Conan-kun…” he hesitated, voice wavering. “Tantei-kun, I can’t—!”

“You have to,” Conan argued with a pained hiss. “It takes less than a day for the Bite to change kids. I have less than twenty-four hours and the _last_ thing I want to do is turn into one of those _monsters_. I don’t want to hurt the kids. I don’t want to hurt _you_. I don’t want to hurt anyone. The only way to prevent that, is for you to kill me.”

“Tantei-kun, _please_!” his voice cracked. “You don’t know what you’re asking—!”

“I do,” Conan insisted. “I’m asking for you to make the right choice. And I know you will. Remember what you promised.”

Tearful indigo eyes fixed themselves on him, the facade of a Poker Face absolutely _broken_. It was like Conan had asked him to kill an innocent rather than prevent the spread of the zombie virus. Like he had asked him to commit an act of sin rather than salvation. 

It was a terrible look to see on the face of Kaitou KID, phantom thief.

Unfortunately, it would be the last one Conan saw and the last one he committed to memory. In the next moment, Mitsuhiko and Ayumi returned with surgery items in hand. Genta wasn’t far behind if the stampeding footsteps were any indication. 

So before he could see the kids one last time, Kuroba doused him with the sleeping gas. Reluctantly, Conan let his world turn black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know this is a scary/anxiety-inducing cliff hanger...
> 
> So I wrote a [chapter 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29869602/chapters/73502751#workskin) to the Ghost!Shinichi oneshot in Next Conan Hint. It's in a new fic, because I ended up getting a lot of good ideas from various commentors, so I have enough stuff to add a few more chapters (though the exact number is not known).
> 
> So after I have emotionally scarred you here, go take a look over there at a very absent-minded Ghost!Shinichi finally remembering where he'd left his body. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan or Magic Kaito, only the idea for this fic.
> 
> PS - It's okay! :D It's a happy chapter this time! No warning of gore needed!
> 
> Also, I left a little surprise for you guys at the end! ;) Hope you like it!

Conan’s world didn’t stay black.

His world became a blur of color and shapes that occasionally faded before coming back. His body felt feverish through-out, skin alternating between burning hot, cold with sweat, and an insistent _itch_ that made him want to dig his nails in and _claw._

On top of that, there was pain. In his neck, from the jaws of the undead. In his head and throat, likely from dehydration from the fever and blood loss. In his whole _body_ from…

He didn’t know what.

The virus?

No. If that were the case, he was pretty sure he’d already be a zombie by this point. No, there was something familiar about this pain, something that didn’t just tickle the back of his mind, but took a knife and _stabbed_ it.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t coherent enough to figure out just what was so _familiar_ about it.

He was, however, coherent enough to open his eyes and take a bleary glance around. A blob of color off to his right had him squinting. It seemed to be taller and broader than the kids, so he took a wild guess. “Kuroba?”

“Conan?” The blob immediately straightened and dropped something off to the side. It looked like some kind of contraption that Conan didn’t know the purpose of. He wondered if Kuroba did. “How are you feeling?”

After a lengthy pause, Conan decided. “ _Terrible_.”

That startled a laugh out of Kuroba. It was a nice laugh. He should laugh like that more often.

He shouldn’t laugh like KID. That was an obnoxious laugh. Conan didn’t like that one.

No, wait, he was supposed to be thinking of something else. Not the way Kuroba laughed. What was it again…? “What happened?”

“Are you going to remember this time?” Kuroba asked. “Or are you just going to forget again?”

Conan gave him a weak, but determined glare.

“Hey, I’m only asking because I hate repeating myself,” Kaito said. “I don’t just talk to listen to the sound of my own voice, you know.”

Conan squinted at him and hissed out a raspy, “Bullshit.”

“Aw, you do know me, Tantei-kun! Okay!” Kuroba clapped his hands together. “So good news and bad news.”

Conan blinked sluggishly, mind still clouded over from sleep and the fever. A sudden _thump_ of pain had him holding his breath, terrified he’d open his mouth and _scream_. It felt like an indeterminable amount of time passed before the pain eased and his ears stopped ringing.

Not even a second had gone by when Kuroba picked up where he left off.

“Good news: the zombie didn’t have a chance to fully sink its teeth in, so you aren’t missing a chunk of flesh out of your neck. I was able to sterilize the area and stitch it closed pretty easily,” Kuroba explained. “Bad news, you’ll definitely have a scar to match that bullet hole in your abdomen —which I _am_ going to ask you about later. Also, I think you have an infection from getting nearly mauled to death and that’s what’s causing your fever. And because of the fever, the sleeping gas put you out a lot longer than expected.”

Conan took a long moment to process this before asking the all-important question. “How long have I been out?”

“From the sleeping gas? Six hours,” Kuroba reported. “From the fever and general shock? Another twenty-two.”

Conan’s mind ground to a halt. Twenty-two?

“You woke up a few times, but didn’t seem to be very coherent. I think that’s due to the fever and shock from blood loss. You don’t seem to remember when you wake up each time either.”

Plus another six?

His body gave another painful throb, starting from his heart and echoing out and back. He let out a shuddering breath when echoes quieted.

“We have some fever reducers which we can use when your fever spikes, but I’m gonna be honest. I think the raised temperature is the only reason infection isn’t spreading as quickly as it could.”

Twenty-two plus six was…

“It’s been more than twenty-four hours,” Conan stated, mind just finally catching up. He wasn’t sure what Kuroba was talking about in the mean-time, but this single fact… it deserved some extra attention.

Kuroba fell silent.

“It’s been more than twenty-four hours,” Conan said again, louder this time, making sure Kuroba heard him. “I should be… _You_ should have…”

“Technically, I’m not breaking a promise,” Kuroba said hesitantly, suddenly very small for the fact that he was three times Conan’s size. “You never turned, so I never had to kill you. The kids are still safe. So either your info is wrong, or that zombie didn’t have a transmittable strain.”

“Or…” Conan winced at a particularly painful whole-body-throb. “I can’t catch it.”

Kuroba fell quiet again, but this silence was more expectant than reluctant. He didn’t believe Conan, but at the same time, he couldn’t _not_ believe him. Kuroba was proof himself that it was possible for people to be immune to the Zombie virus. 

But where Kuroba’s immunity came from implausible magic, Conan’s was based in _science_. 

“I wasn’t sure… when this first started…” Conan winced at another, _familiar_ pulse of pain. “The news said it was Agasa, but… I know he never took to biology… not the kind that would go this far. He never messed with viruses or deadly diseases. He focused on basic chemistry… on physics and mechanical engineering. Something like a zombie virus… it doesn’t make sense.”

Kuroba made a discerning noise.

“But Haibara… she was a prodigy in biology. She created the poison that made me what I am,” Conan continued at a much lower volume. “She had been working on a cure.”

“Poison? What you are…?” Kuroba’s frown was audible. “What are you talking about?”

“I am not Edogawa Conan,” he revealed. “My name is Kudou Shinichi.”

“…Kudou Shinichi? _The_ Kudou Shinichi? That one high school detective prodigy? The one that went missing nearly a year ago?!” Kuroba’s volume grew as he went down the list. _“That_ Kudou Shinichi?!”

“I know it’s hard to believe… If I didn’t live through it, I probably wouldn’t believe either… but it’s true.” Conan clenched his teeth and sucked in a pained gasped. “I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong… got poisoned for it. Instead of dying… I got shrunk into Edogawa Conan. The same thing happened to Haibara.”

“Well, it’s not exactly the _least_ likely thing to happen. I’ve had magical encounters that are less probable and yet still occurred,” Kuroba mused. Even as his voice kept calm, his hands fluttered at every pained writhe Conan failed to hold back. “And you say she was looking for a cure?”

“She had a temporary one, but… the time limit kept getting shorter and shorter for me. My immune system… became too much. Soon, it was only effective when I had a cold, so… she thought putting the two together might yield some results.” Conan winced at their actions, regretting where they had led. “Unfortunately, I only know _now_ … just how dangerous that was.”

There was a long moment of silence before Kuroba spoke, voice dubious. “Not sure how the common cold mixed with a shrink-poison antidote caused a _zombie_ virus…”

“It wasn’t supposed to shrink.” Conan frowned and squeezed his eyes shut against another wave of pain. He only unclenched his jaw once it had passed. "It was… supposed to grant immortal life… and, barring that… kill the victim.”

“So she made something that would kill the victim and _then_ make them immortal?” Kuroba’s voice grew more stressed with every poor choice he listed off. “And gave it the transmission factor of the common cold?”

Conan grimaced. “It was _supposed_ to only be _me_ who got it…”

“But then you would just be a walking, talking, mutated-cold-virus machine.” Kuroba pointed out. “Infecting everyone around you with whatever add-ons Ojou-sama decided were required.”

“We were _working_ on it,” Conan hissed indignantly, then immediately stiffened as another pulse of pain shook his body. 

“I’m sure you were.” Kuroba rolled his eyes, but sounded far less put out than Conan thought he would. If Kuroba had explained that _he_ was the reason behind the Zombie virus, Conan would be _pissed._ So why was he…? “I have to admit… I’m glad you two were behind it.”

“Eh?”

“I’m not gonna lie.” Kuroba toyed with his necklace, fingering the small capsule that held the dredges of the jewel _Succubus Kiss_. “Right after I destroyed _this_ , I started hearing reports of the outbreak. I thought that, maybe, a gem that could grant immortality could have _other_ effects too. Darker effects. After all, it would make sense that one can’t get rid of such a powerful object without some consequences of their own.”

“... You thought you were the cause of the outbreak,” Conan surmised. “You thought that it was caused by magic.”

“Or that magic had pushed things into motion,” Kuroba confessed. “And maybe that’s still the truth. But at least I know it wasn’t a direct cause. That someone _else_ gave rise to the undead through a series of misfortune events.”

Because, then he wouldn’t have to bear the burden. Even if it wasn’t true, a burden shared was a burden made lighter. The face Kuroba made reminded Conan of the relief he felt when the other teen promised to look after the kids in the event of… in the event.

(Still, Conan wished that neither of them had the burden. He wished the whole zombie apocalypse had stayed in science-fiction, where it belonged.)

“So if this virus is a result of her finding a cure for you,” Kuroba hedged. “Does that mean you’ll turn back into Kudou Shinichi?”

“From what I recall… her results weren’t great. Either my immune system killed off the mutated cold virus… or it was completely overwhelmed. In the first case… I’ll make a full recovery and still be Edogawa Conan. In the second…” Conan winced and gritted his teeth against another wave of pain. “I won’t be anyone at all.”

“... You said that no kids make it past the first twenty-four hours, right?” Kuroba reminded him. “You’re already past that, you beat the odds! You’ll be fine!”

“Or I just have a heightened immunity… and it’ll take longer for the virus to break it down.”

“… You could at least _try_ to look on the bright side.”

“I’m still feeling the effects of the Bite.” Conan winced at a particularly _intense_ throb of his heart. “Or, at least, the _antidote_ in it.”

The teen grumbled. “Spoil-sport.”

“If I make it past three days… or the symptoms subside… _then_ we can celebrate.” Conan looked up. “Until then…”

Kuroba met his eyes, then turned his gaze away, guilty and reluctant.

Even though it had worked out in their favor, he hadn’t killed Conan when he had been Bitten and _certain_ that he would turn in a matter of hours. It was obvious Kuroba wouldn’t lift a finger to save himself, not if it meant Conan might get hurt, even if he wasn’t _Conan_ anymore.

He just had to hope that, should it come to Conan hurting _others_ , KID would have no such qualms. 

(From recent evidence, Conan was less sure than he’d like to be. And he had no idea what to do with that.)

Thankfully, he didn’t have to test that theory quite yet.

One day passed, then two and three and four. The painful aches hit a crescendo, then faded until he was back to his usual existence. His shoulder still ached something fierce and he still had to deal with a fever as his body tried to fight against infection, but it was nothing like the waves of pain he’d had to endure as the poison and antidote fought for control of his body.

Fortunately for him, the poison won out.

(Never did he think he would ever say those words and _mean_ them.)

As he recovered, the kids went from nervously hovering at his bedside, to tentatively treating him normally, to becoming bored of the whole thing and going about their day as usual. He didn’t really expect any different, since they were _kids_ , but it was kind of impressive how quickly they moved past things.

Most things.

“How come Conan-kun didn’t change?” Ayumi wondered aloud from where she lay sprawled on her stomach. “He was Bit by a zombie, right? So how come he isn’t one?”

Genta made a discerning hum. “Maybe the zombies aren’t contagious anymore?”

“They are!” Conan hurriedly put a stop to that line of thinking. “They most definitely are! Do _not_ go up to one and try it out!”

“But Conan~!” Genta whined. “If you were fine, then it means the zombie sickness is dying, right?”

“That is _not_ what that means,” Conan growled half-heartedly. He knew that Genta was just applying a six-year-old’s logic to things, but he _really_ hoped Genta grew up to be smarter than that.

“Maybe it’s something that Conan-kun ate?” Ayumi piped up. “Like how we eat apples and oranges to keep the flu away!”

“Oh! Maybe!” Genta agreed enthusiastically. “I wonder if it was that can of eels we had last week?”

It wasn’t. It really, _really_ wasn’t. Before Conan had a chance to correct them though, Mitsuhiko raced in from the kitchen. “Genta! Genta! I need your phone!”

“Haaa?”

“Mine’s about to die!” Mitsuhiko said as he hopped around with his phone in hand. “And my parents are supposed to call soon! They’ll get really scared if I don’t pick up!”

“But…” Genta pulled his phone out. “Mine’s dead.”

_“Eeeehh!?_ ”

“I was playing Kamen Yaiba Rider on it!” Genta defended. “I was gonna charge it last night, but forgot!”

“What am I gonna do?!” Mitsuhiko stared down at his phone miserably.

Honestly, he could probably still make the call while charging the phone, if he wanted too, but Mitsuhiko was under the impression that using a phone while charging it shortened the overall battery life. In practice, he might actually be correct, since Genta’s phone only seemed to last a few hours while Mitsuhiko’s could go for _days_ , but surely one time wouldn’t hurt?

Conan was about to suggest this when Ayumi chimed in. “You can borrow Conan-kun’s phone!”

“Heh?” Conan blinked and turned to her.

“Conan-kun has his phone powered off to save battery, but Mitsuhiko can borrow it real quick, right?” Ayumi hesitated, just realizing that she was offering something that wasn’t hers. “Or… is that no good?”

Conan didn’t want to dig out the red device that he had been avoiding for the past several weeks, but he figured there wasn’t a better use for it.

Besides, for all he knew, the batteries on that thing were dead already.

“Yeah, yeah.” Conan sighed heavily. “Let me go get it.”

“Thanks, Conan!” Mitsuhiko called after him. “I’ll text my parents to let them know to call your phone!”

Conan waved him off and slipped through the doorway to Kaito’s room.

(“Kaito, because I’ve been fingers deep in your neck,” Kuroba had said. “I think we’re past acquaintances by this point.”

And yes, Conan was _sure_ he meant to make that sound as inappropriate as possible.)

It took a couple minutes to find the phone, then double check that it was the _Conan_ -phone, not the Shinichi one, then he powered it on as he returned to the living room.

“It looks like it has half a battery left,” Conan said as he handed it off. “Be careful with it.”

“Of course!” Mitsuhiko gave a very determined nod before heading over to the balcony. With cell towers unable to undergo maintenance, the signals for calls had been getting weaker and weaker. Soon, they’d have to take them on the roof of the building instead. Or, potentially, leave to find a place with less patchy reception.

Conan heard the familiar greeting Mitsuhiko gave to his parents and decided to slip away again. Ayumi and Genta were easily placated with a ‘Need a nap’ and Kaito didn’t say a word when he climbed onto the bed and fell face first into the covers. If he didn’t know better, he might have thought the other teen didn’t noticed him, as concentrated as he was with the latest radio upgrade.

(But he knew better. No thief had better situational awareness than Kuroba Kaito. It was kind of annoying at times.)

He had no sooner closed his eyes than he had to jolt upright because Mitsuhiko raced into the room, calling frantically. “Conan! Conan! Conan!”

At first, Conan thought something was terribly wrong. The apartment had caught on fire. A zombie had made its way in. Genta had somehow broken a bone. (Genta, Genta. It was always Genta.) But Mitsuhiko didn’t look scared.

He looked excited.

Before Conan could ask, Mitsuhiko shoved the phone into his hands with a gleeful cry.

“It’s Ran-nee-chan!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? All good things! :)
> 
> Well then, see you all next week!

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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> 
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